


uncertainty

by kihadu



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:16:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3726829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kihadu/pseuds/kihadu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merrill offers Fenris friendship and a hug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	uncertainty

The coins clinked in his hand. Fenris leaned against the short retaining wall, fingers of plants brushing the nape of his neck. The red light burned. He’d not yet decided.

‘It’s a lovely night,’ said a cheery voice, and suddenly there was a body next to him, her bare skin hot near his. The sun had been down for hours and still the air was too much. Perhaps it would be better to leave this for some time when he wasn’t sweating from merely standing.

‘Not really,’ he said.

Merrill tilted her head at him, a bewildered puppy. ‘Isn’t it hot where you come from?’

‘Doesn’t mean I miss it,’ he said, though he did, a little. The heat in Kirkwall was different. Here it was humid, muggy, mold growing easily in the wet heat.

‘I love it,’ said Merrill. ‘It’s like I can hold it.’ She pretended to do just that, hand out and catching the empty air in a fist.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked. Less curious was his presence, just a midnight stroll around Hightown for him, but for her it was a hike up so many stairs.

‘Isabela said she’d be here,’ said Merrill. ‘And I couldn’t sleep.’

Simple as that, she’d walked up the city without so much as a knife to guard her, all to visit a friend. The coins were hot and slick in his hand, but he, too, had left much of his usual attire behind, and had no pocket in which to put them.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I’m not sure,’ he admitted. When he’d left his mansion he’d been so certain, but soon as that red light had come properly into view all resolve had left him. There were other places, and as he’d come into this section of Hightown claimed by the Red Lantern District he’d been propositioned almost immediately. Another other elf, too tall to be full-blood, had come while he had leaned here considering, had touched his elbow and asked with a practised husky voice if perhaps Fenris would like to use a mouth.

He didn’t.

Perhaps.

The Rose, at least, was less about pimping its employees and more about quality, everyone well treated, well rested, well paid. It was not a practice Fenris was certain he agreed with. It was not a business he was certain he wanted to be part of.

Nonetheless…

‘You can go in, you know,’ Merrill said. ‘No one will think less of you.’

‘I’m not worried about that,’ he insisted. Merrill looked at him with calm curiosity, not at all concerned if he chose not to share, and it was that alone which prompted him to explain. ‘If I go in there I can’t forget what happens. It will be —’ this was more difficult, thoughts felt but never voice, never arranged into sentences even within his own mind, ‘No one has touched me since Danarius,’ he admitted. He didn’t want Danarius to be the last person to have that… pleasure… but neither did he want to toss away this new First on someone who didn’t matter to him.

‘Finding someone worthy is difficult,’ he said. At least at the Rose he could be in charge, could say go or stop, could orchestrate the entire thing with little concern for the pleasure of another.

He just was not sure if he wanted that over a partnership. Equality.

‘Hawke would,’ Merrill said. He wondered how she did that, just said things like they didn’t matter - unless she realised they did matter and said them anyway, or because they mattered, which was all the more admirable. ‘If you wanted.’

‘It’s… complicated,’ he settled for.

‘I know,’ Merrill said. She looked at the door, and to Fenris’ hand closed around the coins. ‘Is it just that kind of touching, or is it everything?’

Fenris frowned at her. He had thought the conversation over; anyone else would have taken his tone and left him alone. Anyone else would be scared of upsetting him. Hawke sometimes seemed to tiptoe, about to speak but silencing himself with a glance at Fenris. He was glad for that, glad that his feelings mattered enough to be taken into consideration, but sometimes, some days, it was more of an irritation than he could stomach.

‘Isabela doesn’t like people touching her stomach,’ Merrill supplied. ‘And Varric doesn’t like hugs. Is it like that?’

Fenris shook his head. ‘Everything is difficult.’

Merrill gave a thoughtful hum. ‘Then maybe you shouldn’t start with this.’

Without thinking he snorted a laugh, struggling to cover it over with a cough. ‘How else would I start?’

‘You could hug someone? Or hold hands. Isabela holds my hand sometimes, and it’s nice. Ooh, or Hawke’s dog! If I need a hug but everyone is all bloody I’ll hug her. It’s good because she always loves being hugged.’

‘You suggest I hug a dog,’ Fenris said, flatly.

‘It’s cheaper,’ said Merrill. ‘Or you could - if you want. You could hug me. Or. Sit close to me? Get used to it?’ She was very hesitant in suggesting that, looking at him and then away, all fumbling words and nervousness. ‘I could tell the others. If you like.’

He had nothing against informing the rest of the gang of his problems; Maker knew they’d seen him struggle with worse than this tentative emotional-physical problem. He just didn’t know how. Or if he wanted that. He didn’t know the shape of that future and failed at every attempt to imagine himself as a person alright with standing with less than these ten inches of space he had now between himself and Merrill.

It was not an issue of lyrium, though surely Hawke would think to ask that question.

‘Do you want to hug me?’

Hugging her would be easier than hugging anyone else; she was a scant half-inch shorter than him, and other than Varric all the humans were tall enough to be halfway to threatening, especially so close, in such a context.

‘You… would offer that?’ he asked.

‘If you like,’ she said. ‘I mean, not now. Unless you want,’ she quickly added. She sagged a little. ‘I like you. I want you to be happy.’

‘You do?’ he asked. He was bewildered. He had no idea if he liked her, if he did more than tolerate her for Hawke’s sake. She was a mage, an elf, a blood mage.

‘You’re my friend.’

He was stunned into silence, which she seemed to take all the wrong way.

‘I’m sorry, I should not have… I overstepped. _Ir abelas_.’ Her goal was in front of them, red light spilling into the humid air, and she took a step towards it.

‘Merrill,’ he said. He had no idea what to say except that he, all of a sudden, did not want her to leave.

‘Yes, Fenris?’ she asked, sweetly as if he’d only just now seen her and thought to start conversation.

‘I would - that is.’ The words felt weird, mouth dry, tongue clumsy, like he had never spoken before. ‘I have not ever hugged anyone.’

‘…Oh,’ she said. ‘That’s alright. I understand.’

He was confused, and took a step that brought them awfully close together, close enough that he could see the faint curve of freckles across the height of her cheeks. ‘Can I hug you?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Really?’ she exclaimed. ‘But you don’t like me!’

‘No,’ he admitted, but he also had to admit that he wasn’t sure. ‘Maybe. I don’t… dislike you.’

‘Resounding praise,’ she teased.

Then she went serious, and carefully, like a hand out for a skittish pet, she put a hand on his arm, close to his shoulder. It… didn’t feel strange. It felt unfamiliar, but he didn’t feel the need to throw it off, or like he was trapped, or anything else he’d imagined. She shuffled in half a step and brought up her other arm, wrapped them both around.

Her chin was suddenly pressing into his collarbone. Fenris closed his eyes, not sure how to go about responding, and tentatively put a hand on her back. She squeezed, just once, and then all in one moment stepped back and away, smiling like they’d just shared a secret.

‘Was that - I’m not an expert at hugging. I’m sorry if it was very bad.’

‘Less slobbery than the dog, I imagine,’ he returned. She gave a hesitant laugh. ‘Thank you,’ he said, feeling that was likely the polite thing to do.

‘If you want to do that again, you only have to ask,’ she said. She was smiling.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. He wasn’t at all sure how he felt about it. It hadn’t been what he’d expected.

‘Too much?’

He could feel her hands on his shoulder blades like it was burned into his skin. He shifted, uncomfortable, but also not - uncertain, more. Unsettled.

‘I don’t know,’ he repeated. The coins were warm in his hand but if he was responding to a mere hug from a maybe-friend in such a manner there was no chance he’d stomach such a complete encompassing from someone he was yet to meet. ‘I think I will go home. But, that was not,’ he licked his lips, ‘I would like if you would hug me again.’

‘I will ask you first,’ she declared, and smiled. ‘Good night, Fenris.’

He nodded. ‘Yes. Good night, Merrill. And thank you.’


End file.
